


Fall Asleep With Me.

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-28
Updated: 2005-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Post-it notes and Dief in a Stetson.amongst other things of course!





	Fall Asleep With Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Fall Asleep With Me.

## Fall Asleep With Me.

  
by The Stetson  


Disclaimer: These guys still don't belong to me I'm afraid (more's the pity!) I just like to see them enjoying themselves now and then.

Author's Notes: Huge thanks to Nicci for being so supportive and to Ximeria for excellent beta and other helpful suggestions and stuff for future reference! You guys rock! I just hope you don't come to regret helping me learn about these things!

* * *

Fall asleep with me... It was late, gone midnight. Fed up with waiting for his master to finish his quota of paperwork for Inspector Thatcher, and let him out for an evening run, Diefenbaker had curled up under the desk, tail over nose and was snuffling happily to himself in dreams of chasing Arctic hares over the tundra. Thoughts of the Ice Queen always disturbed him though; he'd known glaciers with more compassion.   
  
Fraser smiled to himself, wondering if the wolf would show his master some forgiveness in the morning for not having paid him much attention all afternoon, but there was one more folder needing attention, the very last, right at the bottom of the pile. Fraser reached for it without enthusiasm. His back was aching, his eyes were tired from staring at official forms all day, and thoughts of chasing down desperate villains and evil miscreants actually seemed like a pleasant distraction at that moment in time. He always did his duty though and studiously fulfilled his obligations, for such came with scarlet Serge he wore so proudly, but he couldn't recall joining the RCMP for the thrilling excitement of being an office clerk!  
  
He sighed in weary acceptance of his lot in life, and opened the buff coloured slip in front of him. A boyish grin stole over his lips at what he found inside. Post-its. Ray loved to use post-its. They were everywhere, all over his desk at the Precinct House and his kitchen at home, bearing important reminders that were generally forgotten, proudly displayed doodles, half-scribbled shopping lists, and telephone messages that he never quite got around to answering. They came in just about every shape and colour known to man, though recently he'd seemed particularly fond of bright red ones... shaped like lips...  
  
`Remember where my apartment is?' the first one asked; Ray's handwriting fluid and casual.  
  
Fraser nodded, but he didn't realise he was doing it at the time. He peeled the note back to reveal another underneath.  
  
`Remember I owe you?' the next one asked, teasing him with something that could only be good.  
  
Fraser's heart was tripping over itself as he peeled the note back, hoping for a third beneath it.  
  
`I'll be waiting for you...'   
  
Fraser drew a sharp breath when he found the fourth note.  
  
`Hurry!'  
  
That simple imperative was all it took to snap Fraser out of his desk bound stupor. He leapt to his feet, shoving his chair back against the wall with a thud and waking Dief in the process, but that was the least of his concerns. Suddenly his brain was galloping as fast as his heart, and he had to stop himself from running straight out of the Consulate without a second thought for anything but Ray.  
  
He took a deep breath, tried counting to ten but only reached three, then he snatched his tunic from the closet, clipped his Sam Brown over his shoulder, adjusted his lanyard, flicked the lights off and nearly stumbled over the anxious weaving around his legs. Remarkably, he remembered to pick up the front door key on his way out, but his hands were shaking so badly it took three attempts to insert it in the lock before he managed to achieve his goal!  
  
Fraser stood back for a moment at the gate, slapped his Stetson down over his forehead with a decisive gesture, and set off at run. An elated Diefenbaker trotted at his heels, believing he was finally going for his late constitutional. It didn't take the smart lupine long to realise they were heading for Ray's place.  
  
The trouble was, Fraser couldn't decide whether he should race as fast as his body and soul were urging him to, or take his time and savour the anticipation for all it was worth, so he settled for a brisk jog, and paused at every crossing, just to be safe, even though he could feel his chest almost bursting with the tingle of delayed expectation. Did it always take so long for the crosswalk to change colour?  
  
He took every shortcut he knew, past tramps and vagrants who gawped in astonishment, and hookers who stared just a little longingly at the flash of bright uniform that passed tantalisingly before their eyes. He leapt like an Olympic hurdler over fallen trashcans, cardboard boxes and stray garbage bags, then found himself at Ray's apartment block.  
  
He knew which window to look for. A shadow passed briefly over the blinds. Ray had left the Consulate almost six hours earlier. Had he been waiting that long? And what on God's green earth was Fraser doing standing there staring like an idiot?  
  
Good grace from above meant an elderly gentleman was letting himself out of the building just as Fraser turned to the main door. He tipped his hat at the stranger, purely from the courtesy reflex that irritated Ray so much, and hoped he was looking casual enough not to attract too much attention. Then he dashed up the stairs two at a time, far too impatient to call the elevator.   
  
At Ray's door he rocked back on his heels and tried to still his breathing, grateful to have met no one coming **down** the stairs on his desperate flight. Dief gazed up at him and whined softly, expressing his own curiosity at his master's unexpected behaviour. Fraser allowed himself the luxury of wiping the sweat from under his Stetson, before he knocked on the door.  
  
"Its open," Ray called.  
  
Fraser took a last calming breath, and mentally prepared an apology for not having gotten Ray's messages a little sooner.  
  
The apartment was half in darkness. He could hear the refrigerator humming and the turtle scratching at something in its tank.   
  
All Fraser managed to say was, "Ray? I'm sorry..." before hands grabbed at his tunic and he was being pulled forward into a deeply aching kiss.  
  
A delighted gasp caught in Fraser's throat and his fingers let slip the Stetson he'd been clutching so fiercely, only for it to land squarely on an astonished Diefenbaker, who yelped in surprised before trotting off with it firmly over his ears, to take his customary place under the table by the living room window. He had no objections to wearing his master's hat; he strongly believed he should have been given a scarlet uniform years ago anyway...  
  
Fraser pushed Ray up against the bedroom door, tasting coffee and chocolate on his partner's lips. He started to run his hands through Ray's unruly hair, and had to gently tug his head back so they could both come up for air.  
  
"Ray, did you by any chance tidy up in there?" he asked, aiming for a casual inquiry and failing badly.  
  
Ray smiled, and poked his tongue out between his teeth in childish fun. "Wanna find out?" he answered, with a hint of sultry laughter in his voice that had Fraser trembling.  
  
"Only if you come with me," he managed to reply as Ray's hands began exploring his belt and the buttons on his tunic.  
  
"Got no other plans, Frase," came the mumbled response, and Ray's brow creased slightly in concentration as he struggled with the intricacies of Fraser's uniform design, "There should be a law against keeping Mounties locked up in this stuff all day," he grumbled, "Wanna help me out here?"  
  
Fraser couldn't bear to be responsible for the distress on Ray's face a moment longer, and so with a few well practiced manoeuvres he divested himself of lanyard, belt and tunic, wondering vaguely what might have become of his Stetson...  
  
They were through the bedroom door without either of them realizing it, and Ray wasted no more time in winding his arms around Fraser's waist and forcing him with unexpected strength, down onto the mattress.   
  
He groaned as Ray's tongue demanded entry to his mouth; hot, needy, eager. Responding to that much passion was easier for him than he'd ever imagined it could be.  
  
Finally, Ray propped himself up on his elbows, panting like Diefenbaker under the summer sun. His face was flushed with passion. Sitting up to keep the Mountie pinned between his thighs, he moved to tug his shirt up over his head, but Fraser had other ideas. Reaching up, he flicked open the first few buttons and pulled Ray down toward him, sinking his teeth hard into the soft curve of his neck, tasting the sweat-dampened skin and racing pulse like a vampire with his prey. It made him feel alive, real, vibrant, needed...  
  
Ray's whole body shook, and a low moan of pleasure escaped from the very depths of his being, then he blinked rapidly. His shirt was gone, and his belt removed before he could so much as draw the next breath.  
  
"Mounties are trained to be good with their hands Ray," Fraser said solemnly, as if to offer an explanation.  
  
"Greatness!" was the only reply Ray's lust hungry mind could find, as the overwhelming urge to have Fraser naked beneath him consumed his every action.  
  
He knew about suspenders... he could deal with those... then the white cotton Henley and the buttons on Fraser's jodhpurs... but the boots... those laces, despite coming with instructions issued by the RCMP, defied even his best detective's logic...  
  
So he turned his attention back to Fraser's bared skin, contenting himself for the moment with feeling his way, inch by inch over the taut muscles of his stomach, mesmerised by the sharp intakes of breath his explorations heralded from Fraser's supine body. Each new sound, drawn from his lover's mouth, had him hard and aching. How could he have not wanted this from the very beginning?  
  
Fraser's hands wandered up to his shoulders and through his hair, lingering at his neck before tracing down the ridges of his spine. Whenever Stella had done that in the past, it always tickled, but with Fraser it was more like an electric tingle that ran straight to his groin. Ray slipped his left arm beneath Fraser's back and lifted him a little, to trace with his tongue up the line of his sternum, and settle on this throat, lapping at the soft, warm skin.   
  
Beneath him Fraser moaned, no longer able to help himself at feeling the pressure of Ray's hardness against his stomach. His head dropped back as Ray's lips found that one place just behind his right ear that sent shockwaves quaking down through his body.  
  
"Oh God..." he sighed, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them. He suddenly clutched at Ray's back, terrified in one inexplicable heartbeat, of losing the only man he could allow himself to be like this with.  
  
Ray felt him tense. "What is it?"  
  
Fraser drew a shuddering breath. "Don't let go of me," he whispered, "please don't ever let go of me..."  
  
Ray chuckled, a low, wicked sound that spoke only of what was yet to come. "I'm here Frase," he whispered, soothingly, "I won't let you fall." He also knew what that fear felt like. It would creep over him at his lowest ebb, trying to convince him he wasn't really worthy of the love this man could give him.  
  
"Will you ever call me Ben?"   
  
Ray blinked, shifting slightly to gaze down into those soft blue eyes that had such power over him. "Would you like me to?" he asked, suddenly nervous, but not quite sure why.  
  
"Very much Ray," came the almost prayer-like reply.  
  
Fraser could sense the shiver running up Ray's spine.  
  
"Only here, like this, Ben," Ray answered, taking a deep breath, "where it's you and me... and it's special... where no one can come between us and tell us it's wrong..." He struggled with the right way to express himself, cursing his lack of words. "Does that make sense?" he asked gently, his eyes burning abruptly at the thought of Fraser wanting him to strip away the last formality that stood between them.   
  
"Yes Ray," he whispered, drawing him down to seal their agreement with a kiss.   
  
Ray lost all the air in his lungs as Ben's clever tongue brushed past his teeth, delving deeper into his mouth, lingering there to play for a while. He could barely let loose a small moan, but it was enough to make Ben reluctantly pull back.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"You gotta take those boots off Ben... I need all of you... to myself... right now!" he panted, giving the Mountie a chance to sit up.  
  
Ben grinned; he'd always been fast at lacings...all that practice with hockey skates on frozen ponds back in Inuvik suddenly having a very different application...   
  
Ray shucked off his own remaining clothes, and sat back on the bed, watching in fascination as Ben expertly opened his high brown boots and pulled them off before discarding his socks and jodhpurs. That left only his shorts, and in the last few weeks Ray had become somewhat possessive of his right to strip Ben of his boxers.  
  
Ray pinned him back down on the mattress, one hand over each wrist, not even giving his lover a moment to take in the sight of his own bare flesh and aching erection. Pressed the length of Ben's body, Ray felt a flush of power rise through him at knowing he alone was responsible for the desire in Ben's eyes and the warm flush on his cheeks.  
  
"I love you," he said softly, content just to say it and see the look on his lover's face as he spoke.  
  
Ben swallowed, and thought for a moment that his heart had stopped beating. The utter sincerity in what Ray had just said made him shake and he could do nothing to control it.  
  
Ray dropped a myriad kisses over his face and neck, then nuzzled into his shoulder, lapping at his skin again, almost purring like a cat. Ben closed his eyes and drifted in a sensual daze as Ray proceeded to lick his way down across his chest, settling on his tight, hard nipples. Ben lost track of everything else in the world then but Ray's mouth; the rasp of that soft, warm tongue as it swirled over his flesh, the pull of his teeth as he nibbled and sucked. Dear God, was that really **him** making those sounds as Ray tormented his flesh?   
  
He arched his hips up off the bed as Ray tugged his boxers down and cast them to one side. Only then did his eyes flicker open. He loved the way Ray looked at him, the adoration, the sheer strength of his need, was enough to have Ben begging for just one more kiss, one more caress, one more moment together... He never felt the slightest hint of embarrassment being naked under Ray's scrutiny, not even the very first time it had happened. He felt cherished, truly admired for who he was, rather than what he was... so very few people in his life had ever looked at him that way...  
  
Ray grinned like a kid at Christmas, and with one almost dizzying movement, Ben found himself lying face down on his stomach, with Ray's hands sweeping tenderly up his back, his throbbing erection pressed against Ben's hip. Soft kisses followed; the kisses became licks and Ben sighed in bliss as the hands explored still further over his heated skin, lingering in reverence at the scar his other Ray had marked him with, seeming somehow to ease the ache that was always there.  
  
"Ben?"  
  
"Yes Ray."  
  
"I'll never hurt you like that," he whispered tenderly, "I promise."  
  
Ben bit his lower lip to stop it trembling, and turned over onto his back once more. "I know," he replied, and the depth of anguished longing he found in Ray's eyes was truly incredible, "I love you," he whispered, "I've loved you all along."  
  
He had wanted to say so much more, to soothe away Ray's concerns and calm his nagging fears; to tell him how much faith he had in his lover, how much trust there was between them, but he lost his cognitive reason the moment Ray entered him. All the blood in his body rushed to his own, almost painful arousal, leaving his mouth with nothing but gasps of pleasure and cries for more.  
  
Ray lost himself in moaning Ben's name over and over, in the newly discovered freedom he had to use it, and Ben found he loved hearing him chant it like a prayer of supplication again and again, in perfect sync with every thrust of their hips.  
  
Ben could hold nothing back, his body arching up off the bed each time Ray unerringly struck that one spot deep inside him that set off fireworks to blind his vision. Nothing in his life had ever been like this, had ever felt like this. He gasped for air, blinked the sweat from his eyes, and looked up to find Ray gazing down at him with focused intensity, using all his strength to carry them both to the edge, but Ben couldn't make it last for much longer. His hands clutched desperately at the sheets as though to keep himself grounded as between the friction of their bodies he felt the white hot rapture of release, and for that one moment he could do nothing but trust Ray with his soul.  
  
Yet seeing Ben's reaction, Ray was horrified; one thought lashing through his mind...`Oh God, **no**, what've I done...?', for Ben was crying silently, the sobs hitching in his throat as tears trickled slowly down his cheeks to the happiest, most satisfied, blissful smile he had ever seen on another person's face before, and when Ben's fingers pressed fiercely into his flexing thighs, Ray followed him on a wave of pleasure, throwing his head back with a hoarse, joyous shout, the sheer force of it shaking Ben to the core.  
  
"God! Ben..." he gasped, each word muffled in his lover's sweat matted hair. He was shattered, broken into a million tiny pieces by what they'd done; his limbs so heavy with exhaustion he could barely lift himself from his lover's body, but slowly they untangled themselves and curled snugly around each other, each listening to his lover's frantic pulse gradually calming.  
  
"I should return to the Consulate, Ray," Ben muttered, knowing somewhere fuzzily in the back of his mind, there'd be awkward questions asked if he wasn't present in the morning.  
  
Ray nuzzled lazily against Ben's neck and hushed him with a finger to his lips. "No, please don't go... not tonight," he replied, throwing his arm protectively over Ben's chest, appalled at the prospect of waking up in an empty bed one more time. He couldn't bear that, not again. "Stay?" he begged urgently, pressing a soft kiss to Ben's chin, "Fall asleep with me..."  
  


  
 

* * *

End Fall Asleep With Me. by The Stetson 

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